


Perfection, Achieved.

by unhappychildhavingfun



Category: Addams Family - All Media Types, The Addams Family (Movies - Sonnenfeld)
Genre: F/M, Movie: Addams Family Values (1993), envy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:27:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29893545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unhappychildhavingfun/pseuds/unhappychildhavingfun
Summary: "Oh, Gomez, if I asked her, would you come? You and Morticia?" "Of course."Morticia Addams and Debbie Jellinsky partake in private conversation during dinner.
Relationships: Fester Addams/Debbie Jellinsky, Gomez Addams/Morticia Addams
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	Perfection, Achieved.

The bistro.

A candlelit cavern frequented by members of high society who crave five-star dining under stirring black bats and the occasional lurking salamander. They always said the rich were so eccentric. Furs, jewels and cigarettes flooded in and out of the door, in and out of chairs, and occasionally danced together, gracefully, to the hair-raising melody of six musicians seated behind iron bars. The team of females nodded and swayed with their instruments, glancing up from their sheet music every now and then to see what important person was entering, next, as it sometimes determined what song would come to follow. It was their duty to please.

Wine glasses clinked and voices echoed in intellectual conversation. The Duchess of Eswatini's head was thrown back in delighted laughter, the double string of beads around her neck rubbing together with the heave of her bare shoulders. Crisp-looking waiters refilled glass after glass, giving recommendations when asked for them and giving complements that were simply expected. However, the chatter, music, and clinks of glass and silverware concocted into one large hum in Fester's ears, as he sat with a roll of bread in his teeth.

"Fester!"

Fester was pulled back to the present by his brother's voice. Gomez sat across from him at the table, his eyes darting between him and Debbie Jellinksy, urging him to respond to something she must have said. Radiant in pale pink, she bashfully bowed her head, her innocent eyes peeking at Fester and waiting for him to speak. With a gulp, Fester removed the bread from his mouth and offered it to Debbie with a charming grin, avoiding her gaze. Hesitantly, she took the bread with a grateful manner.

"It's a quaint French custom," Morticia spoke up, coming to her brother-in-law's aid, "sharing half-eaten bread." She touched her husband's arm, inquiring his assistance. Noting the look in her eyes, he stammered for a moment as he thought of something to say to Debbie. The only thought that came to his mind was that his brother had just returned to him not long ago, after twenty-five years.

"Fester is truly continental, he spent many years abroad."

"He speaks twelve languages! Fluently," added Morticia.

"I could tell! You know, when I first saw him, I thought he was from Europe!" Debbie beamed at the couple. It was then that Fester looked at Debbie for the first time that evening.

"You did?" He asked, with the raise of his brow bone. She looked at him with a blushing smile.

"It's true..."

"But I took a bath."

Gomez squeezed Morticia's thigh under the table to keep himself from grimacing. The two shared a look, well aware they had their work cut out for them that night. Fester clumsily took the glass of water in front of him, letting a few drops dampen the table cloth. He gulped the water, his hand shaking with nervous tremors, before he dropped the glass all-together. As it shattered beneath him, Fester was thrown into a coughing fit, saliva spattering across the table.

Morticia and Gomez watched him pathetically gasp for air. Debbie, alarmed, raised her hand to gently pat him on the back.

"Don't squander it, he might beat his old record." Gomez smiled, dashingly. Debbie nodded and watched, uncomfortably, as her date choked. Fester finally turned his head and heaved up the water and bread on the floor, splattering the collar of Debbie's dress in the process. She shrieked, standing from her chair. Guests turned their heads, eager to witness any sort of new drama to fuel their gossip. Morticia quickly stood and picked up her handbag.

"Debbie, won't you accompany me to the powder room? I could use a retouch."

Debbie removed her hand from her mouth and composed her expression of disgust, forcing an unshaken demeanor. "I'd love to," she picked up her clutch, quickly following Morticia. Morticia looked back at Gomez who nodded in understanding, while Fester sunk in his chair. Gomez reached over and patted Fester, roughly, on the shoulder.

"There you go, old man, perfect aim!"

Once at the powder room, Morticia entered and held the door for Debbie. She lead her to the sink and pulled a few tissues from an ornate box and held them under running water. She then took Debbie's collar and began dabbing at the rancid stain.

"Thank you, it's fine, really..." Debbie took the tissue from Morticia and continued wiping at the spot.

"Just making sure it won't burn a hole through the fabric. That happened, once." Morticia made her way to the vanity mirror and sat, elegantly, unclasping her bag and taking out her compact. "Sit down, dear."

After examining the stain, Debbie walked over and pulled out the chair beside her to sit. She watched Morticia from the mirror as she used a small brush to sweep the dark shadow below her brow, skillfully blending the colors. The candlelight accentuating her features and dancing against her paler made it impossible for Debbie to deny her interesting beauty. Feeling her gaze, Morticia met her eyes in the mirror and lowered the brush.

"Fester is really a wonderful man. He's just terribly shy."

Shaken from her thoughts, Debbie blinked. "Really? I just can't tell, does he like me at all?"

"Of course he does. He vomited." She placed the brush back into the compact and delicately closed it. Debbie looked at her soiled dress in the mirror and dabbed at it, once more.

"That's true... Does he always do that with women he likes?"

"Oh no," she assured her. "Just you."

Debbie swooned, bringing a coy grin from Morticia. She placed the shadow compact back into her bag and took out a lipstick. Debbie observed her freshly manicured nails as they pulled the top from the expensive brand of makeup. Her eyes trailed her glittering black sleeve to her entire dress, which was undoubtedly custom made and outrageous. She replayed in her head the expression on Gomez's face when he saw his wife descending the staircase, earlier, before they all went out. She knows he would do anything she wanted. Entranced, she didn't realize the words actually left her mouth when she subconsciously mumbled,

"How did you do it?"

Morticia's eyes pierced her through the mirror, and Debbie felt her breath lodge in her throat.

"Pardon?"

"I mean..." she forced a dainty laugh, lightening her tone, "gosh, look at you. You're so... wealthy! And you and your husband, you seem so... happy. Just how did you achieve the life that every woman wants?"

There was a momentary pause. Morticia raised a brow at Debbie's gleaming smile. "Is that what _you_ want?"

"Well, I... Oh, I don't know, I just..." She looked down at her hands in her lap, fiddling with the crumpled tissue. Morticia pressed her lips and placed the top back on the lipstick, not taking her eyes off of Debbie.

"I assure you, I didn't know marriage was something I wanted before I laid eyes on Gomez. And, as formidable as manifestation is, he proposed that very night." Morticia blinked, coquettishly, and placed the lipstick in her bag. Debbie returned her eyes to the mirror.

"Did you know he was..."

"Wealthy?"

Debbie nodded, a certain seriousness in her expression. She intently waited for Morticia to continue. Much to Debbie's discomfort, Morticia turned from the mirror and faced her.

"Why, Debbie... If it's not too bold, you strike me as someone who has been longing for something. Perhaps even coming close to succeeding, but just not quite."

Debbie stared back into her narrow eyes, hesitating to speak. "...Well, everyone wants something..."

Morticia considered the statement. "Gomez was an unplanned grace. The deliverance of what I never knew I needed. Perhaps, much like you and Fester?"

Debbie's neutral lips curled into what must have been her millionth smile that evening. "You think so?"

Morticia nodded, her dark eyes sparkling from the candlelight. She turned back to the mirror and reviewed her reflection, one last time. Debbie's hands strangled the tissue until her knuckles turned white.

"Morticia, if you don't mind my asking, does your husband ever... fall short?"

Morticia didn't answer, immediately. Instead, she stood and smoothed her dress with her hands. Taking her cue, Debbie stood up as well.

"You can never fall short after a stretch on the rack." Morticia blinked and made her way to the door and Debbie followed. But to Debbie's sudden surprise, Morticia stopped. She turned around and eyed Debbie, closely, as she stood frozen at the spot.

"I know what you meant. And if my husband ever does cause me misery, it does not go without consequence... And the consequence is usually of his choosing,” she simpered. "But it's a mutual rule, you see?"

Debbie nodded, understandingly.

"Nothing good comes without tribulation. Forgiveness is key. I could never reduce myself to one of those piteous women who wander the world, endlessly, for a psychotic aspiration. Slaughtering every man who ever disappointed me. Especially once you've found someone so... indestructible."

Debbie's head hung at a slight tilt, and one of her eyes seemed more narrow than the other. Morticia thought it to be an attractive twitch.

"Is it Fester you want, Debbie?"

"Oh, Morticia. Fester is exactly what I want."

With a nod, Morticia opened the door of the powder room and Debbie followed her back to their table. She watched men turn their heads at the sway of her hips, and women open their mouths to mutter discussions of what her dress might cost. Debbie might as well have been cellophane. She looked at the table as they approached: on one side, a handsome and sophisticatedly dressed man. On the other... Fester. And the latter was _her_ date for the evening.

"We're back," Morticia announced to the table, and Debbie realized she had almost forgotten to wear her smile. "Noses pattered."

The two men rushed to pull the ladies' chairs out for them to sit. While Fester clambered about, Gomez suavely leaned over his wife.

"Perfection, achieved."


End file.
